


The Means

by Capucine



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Bad Parenting, Child Neglect, Drabble, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Emotionally Repressed, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Inspired by Music, Mother-Son Relationship, Sad, Training, not graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-29 13:23:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6376666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Capucine/pseuds/Capucine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Damian must perform another task in his training. He hopes to impress his mother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Means

**Author's Note:**

> Kinda disturbing. Inspired by Kings and Queens by 30 Seconds to Mars. Not graphic by any means.

A hand reached out of the muck and pearly-colored grime to crawl to shore. It was a place rife with the smell of rot and water and no-one-should-be-here.

It was a dark day, but not much more overcast than was normal. Meaning that the skies were gray, heavy with doubt that the sun would peek through, and it was chilly.

And the figure crawled out of the grime of the massive lake, shaking in the air.

“I did it,” he croaked.

The figure standing on shore, clean and clothed and with her arms crossed, nodded down. “Good job. Let’s go home.”

The figure curled in a little. His hands fisted in the coarse, cold sand, and he seemed like he would resist. Not go home.

But that was weakness. That was defiance where it wasn’t wanted. 

And Damian Wayne Al Ghul knew the rules.

So he rose, shuddering in the chill, lungs hurting even though he’d built up his ability to hold his breath underwater, prepared for this day for a good month or so. He clutched his hands around small but toned arms, murmuring, “Yes, Mother.”

It was Mother’s Day, after all. And he so rarely saw her.

The retrieved stone from the bottom clenched tightly in his hand as they headed back to the transport, forgotten. The means, the method, had been far more important than the end. To prove he could do it, had excelled in his training.

And he had. Mother was proud.

At least, he thought she was. When he was six in a couple more months, he thought he would be able to tell better.

**Author's Note:**

> So, yeah. Damian's training and parenting was pretty fucking shitty. Poor kiddo.


End file.
